


Everybody’s loss

by JassyK12



Series: Wentworth tales [2]
Category: Wentworth - Fandom
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:48:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25676869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JassyK12/pseuds/JassyK12
Summary: The aftermath of Bea’s murder. How does Joan feel now her archenemy is dead?
Relationships: Joan Ferguson / Bea Smith
Series: Wentworth tales [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1850248
Kudos: 5





	Everybody’s loss

**Author's Note:**

> I do not the tv show Wentworth, nor do I own its characters Joan Ferguson, Vera Bennett, Will Jackson, Bea Smith or Mitch Lawson. The show and it’s characters belong to FOXTEL and Freemantle Australia. No copyright infringement intended.

It’s odd, the things you remember when you’re watching someone die, Joan thought as she stood in shock over Bea’s dead body lying lifelessly at her feet on the ground.  
Joan thought back to the first time she saw Bea Smith in the prison isolation unit. She was almost lifeless then too, heavy on sedatives and constantly calling out for her deceased daughter Debbie. She was quite pitiful. But it turned out Joan underestimated how much of an enemy Bea Smith turned out to be. She grimaced as she thought of all the times Bea had got to her, the photos of Jianna, the prison riot, saving Franky and Joshua from the fire, working with Mr Fletcher, helping Jodie Spitari… all that went through Joan’s mind in one long flashback.   
Now it was all over, she thought as she stared at Bea’s body. She felt as though she was in a trance, still not quite believing that this was happening.   
Joan tried to steady her breathing without much success. Mitch Lawson held her hands and put on handcuffs on her. “You don’t understand,” Joan protested as she felt the metal of the cuffs pressed tightly on her wrists that were placed behind her back. “It was self-defence. She wanted me to do it. Please,” she pleaded with the guard, but no one seemed to hear her. They were busy attending to Bea. She was the live person but the dead, Bea, was getting attention.   
Joan shook her head in panic, not quite believing what was happening. Maybe she shouldn’t have stabbed Bea, even though Bea wanted it. She gulped as the ambulance came and Vera and Will helped Bea into a stretcher, but Joan knew Bea was dead. She could also tell by the grim looks Will and Vera exchanged with one other. Joan truly felt invisible that moment.   
“Vera,” she tried, “You know I didn’t do this on purpose. She came at me with a screwdriver, I didn’t do anything,” she begged. Vera turned to her. “Joan, you are responsible for this. You’re guilty until proven innocent. With your record you understand why we feel this way,” Vera told her with her arms folded across her chest. Joan opened her mouth to defend herself again but Vera clearly wasn’t going to listen to her. Instead she nodded to Mitch. “Put her in protection until the police or her lawyers come,” she told him.   
Joan kept her eyes on Bea’s body as she was being lead away, as though staring at Bea she could somehow bring her back to life. I guess it’s true, we do need enemies, Joan thought with mixed feelings over the death of her own enemy.  
Half an hour later, Joan sat in isolation, gazing at her still trembling hands. She was sure she had PTSD, but none of the Medical staff seemed to care. They were all wondering what to do with Bea Smith.   
As Joan stared down at Bea’s lifeless body half an hour earlier, she had thought it was all over. How wrong she was. It was only just beginning, for when Joan blinked, something caught her eye and she looked up to see Bea’s image, doing nothing except calmly staring accusingly at her, just like her father’s image had done. Joan groaned and held her head in her hands. “Go away,” she moaned, feeling Bea was mocking her guilty conscience. Even though what Joan did was self-defence, she still felt a little remorseful for the prisoner.   
She sighed in relief when she looked up and Bea’s figure was gone.   
Joan clasped her hands together in a bid to stop them from shaking. It worked after a few minutes. The door opened, and Joan looked up to see a nurse enter the room. “Hi, you must be Joan. I’m Nurse Walker, I’m new here,” the nurse explained. She was wearing a white nurses’ uniform and her long blonde hair was tied up in a professional looking bun behind her head. She was petite and slim and walked in high heels. She wore little make up, and seemed to smile with her coffee coloured brown eyes.   
Joan wasn’t sure if she liked this woman or not, she always took her time studying people before making decisions about them later.   
Just give it time, Joan thought with a small smile, feeling a part of the old Joan coming back. “Hello, Nurse Walker,” Joan greeted her uncertainty.   
“Thw nurse nodded with a smile which made Joan feel at ease for the first time since the stabbing as she took Joan’s temperature and nodded again before giving her a couple of pills. “I’m leaving you these pills to relax you tonight. I know you had a major shock today,” she said. Joan murmured. Major shock. That was one way of putting it, Joan thought. “Thank you,” she said instead as she took the tablets from the nurse and drank a cup of water as she swallowed them. The nurse nodded with satisfaction. “We’ll bring you dinner at six. Then you can get an early night. We’ll help you deal with this Joan, you know it’s our job to deal with it,” she said with a last smile at her before leaving the room.   
Joan sighed and continued to stare out of the window. Did it really happen? She wondered in disbelief. Most prisoners seemed to forget, Joan was only human, too. A solitary tear slid down her cheek as she thought of her loss of Bea Smith. She felt empty inside as she attempted to block out the pain and shock of what she had done.   
She had grown to understand Bea. Joan remembered when she said to her, “you’re a loner Smith.” That was once the common bond they shared.   
Joan lay down on the mattress as she waited for dinner. What would she do without Smith now? She wondered.   
But Joan knew one thing: things will never be the same at Wentworth prison.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you have enjoyed reading this story, and thanks very much if you’ve left a kudos!


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